


Attempted Requisition of Assets

by truthtakestime



Series: Respectable Scoundrels [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Stargate SG1, Warehouse 13
Genre: Aliens, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Mrs. F is mysterious, Phil Coulson does not need a Vala running around, Scoundrels, he'd have a heart attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:38:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthtakestime/pseuds/truthtakestime
Summary: “What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?” she asked. “You were never one to call without a reason, Agent Coulson.”“Youcan call me Phil,” Coulson pointed out casually.“But you're here on business, are you not? You're here as Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. Andnotas Mr. Phil Coulson my very old friend.”





	1. Phil

**Author's Note:**

> Set INCREDIBLY early in AoS season 1. Like, before May and Ward have their weird thing. And before the first episode with Sif. (It's also pretty early in Scoundrels 'verse. Before "Mrs. F Takes over".) 
> 
> Shield isn't a regular part of this universe, but I spent a while binge-watching the show, and this happened anyways. I like to think that they can coexist. 
> 
> Thanks/blame goes forever to Halle.

“Agent Coulson.” 

Phil would never stop being startled by the woman's sudden appearances, no matter if he had been expecting her or not. Years of practice kept him from reacting, and he merely smiled at her over his shoulder. “Irene, it's nice to see you again. Won't you sit down?” 

With a smile, Mrs. Frederic settled into the booth across from him. “You're very kind to indulge me,” she said, accepting a cup of tea that was set before her with a vague smile at the waitress. “Many people who know me better than you tire of my _unconventional_ entrances.”

Couslon shrugged. “I asked you to meet me; I knew that you would show up sooner or later.” 

He took a sip of his drink, and Mrs. Frederic took a sip of hers. For a moment they stared each other down quietly. Searching. _Waiting_. All of the noise in the quiet little bar around them faded to a dull hum.

Mrs. Frederic cracked first, something Phil assumed to be a courtesy because Irene never simply _cracked_. “What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?” she asked. “You were never one to call without a reason, Agent Coulson.” 

“ _You_ can call me Phil,” Coulson pointed out casually. 

“But you're here on business, are you not? You're here as Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. And _not_ as Mr. Phil Coulson my very old friend.” 

“The two are not so very disconnected,” Phil protested. “But unfortunately yes, I am here for business.” He put aside his drink and folded his hands on the table. He wasn't thrilled with this idea, but he had put in a lot of thought and he was convinced that it would be a _good_ decision, if an uncomfortable one. Besides, Fury had insisted he try. “I'm here about Ms. Mal Doran.” 

“Ah.” The gleam in Mrs. Frederic's eye did not match the surprise in her tone. She seemed to realize this. “I had a feeling we'd be having this conversation sooner or later.” 

“She's a powerful asset and we could use her.”

Mrs. Frederic scoffed at him. Much as he'd suspected she would “Oh, please! Vala would be no more endeared to your rules than she was to those of the Stargate Program, and she _liked_ many of them. She would be stifled under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s red tape.” 

True. But Phil and his team were very distinctly _not_ the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. (as he was seeing more and more clearly.) “It's not like that on the Bus.”

“You barely control those young kids you already have; how do you hope to have any influence over Vala Mal Doran?” Mrs. Frederic shook her head. “She's an alien, she doesn't think like the rest of the world. She's been useful to me because we understand each other. But to put her back in a government box – no matter _how_ big and deceptive it may look – would destroy her. You do not know what she was when I finally tracked her down.” 

“Irene...” Phil sighed. The conversation was progressing as he had expected, at least, if now how he'd hoped. It seemed that Mrs. Frederic was quite protective of her latest asset, for some reason. 

“It's not like I'm trying to steal her away from you,” he tried as a last ditch effort. “I only want to...borrow her for a bit. With her on my team –”

“As I recall, you don't seem to have a shining track record with alien life forms.” Mrs. Frederic arched an eyebrow. “Thor notwithstanding, of course. But you can't have her.” 

“You're really not going to budge on this, are you?” 

The woman shrugged helplessly. “I'm afraid not, Phil. I appreciate your position, but Ms. Mal Doran stays with me.” 

With a rueful smile, Phil admitted defeat. “Well, it never hurts to ask, right? Maybe next time I'll have better luck. Though you might want to be the one to break it to Director Fury; he had his heart set on this girl.” 

“He would have regretted bringing her on,” Mrs. Frederic grinned. “Perhaps one day there will be an opportunity for your people to work with her, though, if something exceptional comes up. I am not opposed to the combining of forces, you know, just the attempted requisition of one of my _very_ small number of active recovery agents.” 

“And I don't blame you for that.” Coulson smiled and shook her hand. “It was good to see you again, Irene.” 

“And you as well, Phil. Glad to see you up and about again; last I heard you were pretty badly off, sent away to recover.” 

“They sent me to Tahiti,” he nodded. “It's a magical place.” 

She gave him a faint smile. “We'll be in touch.” 

Because he knew that she was waiting, Phil obligingly glanced away into the bar for a second so that she could do her little disappearing act. While his eyes roamed the room, he thought he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure slipping out the back way. But his brain dismissed it as a non-threat, and he didn't think anymore of it. He wanted to finish his drink before heading back to the Bus. 

Unsurprisingly, when he returned his attention to the booth Mrs. Frederic was gone. 

It was a neat little trick. Maybe he could learn it at some point, though he doubled that she would be a willing teacher. He was pretty sure it was a Warehouse trick, and that place and S.H.I.E.L.D played by entirely different rules. 

Well, that had been a bust. Though, Phil was honestly just a little bit relieved that it hadn't worked out. Mrs. Frederic wasn't wrong about his track record with aliens; and an alien with Romanov's seductive side, Barton's irreverence, Tony's gift for innuendo _and_ Skye's distrust for all things Authority? That was a scary thought. 

The Bus wasn't ready for that kind of asset.


	2. Melinda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Agent May.”
> 
> May doesn't get startled easily. In fact, one would go so far as to say that she almost _never_ startles, barring like, maybe three times. And the third one's iffy. So when she leaps away from the Bus's bar and whirls around with a flawless if hurried spinning hook kick towards the speaker, it's _not_ because they've caught her off-guard.
> 
> Certainly not that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Melinda Freaking May is everyone's fierce mama bear and would _never_ let Coulson go to a mysterious meeting without having his back.

“Agent May.”

May doesn't get startled easily. In fact, one would go so far as to say that she almost _never_ startles, barring like, maybe three times. And the third one's iffy. So when she leaps away from the Bus's bar and whirls around with a flawless if hurried spinning hook kick towards the speaker, it's _not_ because they've caught her off-guard.

Certainly not that. 

When her foot passes harmlessly through the air and comes to rest behind her, she has already relaxed enough to recognize the voice as one she has heard before. But she keeps her stance guarded, because _familiar_ rarely translates into _safe_. At least, in May's world. She eyes her visitor (less than an inch out of the range of her kick, and unruffled) with caution. “Mrs. Frederic,” she identifies slowly. A brief flash of memory: shadowing Phil in a bar. The woman appearing and disappearing without a trace. Threat assessment uncertain. “To what do I owe the intrusion?” 

“You have a good memory,” Mrs. Frederic compliments, seeming impressed, “especially considering that you were not invited to that meeting. I apologize for coming in this way; but I did not think it would get me anywhere with you to try _knocking_. Nor would it have been feasible in-flight like this, and I do not have the luxury to wait until you have landed.” 

Fair assumptions. And May is _positive_ that she should be more concerned than she is about how and when the woman even got onto the Bus in the first place. “But you wanted to get somewhere with me,” she reads between the lines, deciding it would be counterproductive to fish for other details at the moment. “Why?” 

Mrs. Frederic sighs, suddenly seeming much less threatening and very _old_. It's a neat trick. May's seen Phil do it. Hell, she's seen _Romanov_ do it. It's not reassuring. 

The old woman seems to read her mind. “I am not trying to deceive you, Agent May. And I am not a threat to you. I'm here to talk about Phil Coulson.”

While she still doesn't trust this woman as far as she can throw her (which makes for a bad analogy, seeing as she could likely propel her a _considerable_ distance), May relaxes her posture into something a little more neutral. “What about him?”

It takes another long moment for Mrs. Frederic to answer. She seems troubled. “Is he alright?” she asks finally. “I know that he seems fine on the surface, and he certainly did not give me any obvious reason to doubt him, but he was...different, somehow, in a way that I can't quite explain.”

May had done some digging since Mrs. Frederic and Coulson met. The woman is her own entity with her own agenda, and certainly not affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D.. She has no security clearance. May has to tread carefully. “He did almost die,” she points out, raising an eyebrow. “That changes anybody.” 

“True.” Mrs. Frederic closes her eyes briefly as a shudder runs through her body. May spares a thought to wonder what she's been through. When she opens her eyes again, though, they betray nothing. “Still, I believe it is more complicated than that. I have seen my fair share of unlikely resurrections, and they are not without cost.”

“If you want to know more, then you'll have to ask Coulson yourself. I don't have the answers.”

“Alright, I can read between the lines, too; I'm on my way out.” Mrs. Frederic pauses for a moment, eyeing May carefully. It's...unnerving. She feels like the woman is looking into her soul, reading her secrets. Which is ridiculous. “Look after him, Agent May. I don't know what is happening, but I feel that things are about to become very difficult for him. He is going to need someone strong to hold him together when that time comes.” 

May blinks, about to ask what the woman can possibly know of what's coming; but in the span of heartbeats that it takes for her eyes to open again, Mrs. Frederic is gone. Just like last time.

“Dammit,” May mutters, feeling ridiculous. How is that even possible?

She recognizes and dismisses Skye's steps long before the girl opens her mouth. “Who was that?” she asks through a mouthful of cookies. May rolls her eyes. “I thought I heard you talking to someone. Is Ward around?”

To turn and engage would be pointless, so May doesn't bother. “You're hearing things,” she mutters. Quickly, she heads for the cockpit (for _solitude_ ) to think, before Skye can ask any more questions.

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...May is a _grumpy_ mama bear, but a mama bear nonetheless. God bless her.


End file.
